


Blue Velvet

by orphan_account



Category: IT (1990)
Genre: 1990 Pennywise, Abduction, Alternate Universe, Belts, Daddy Kink, Daddywise, Derry Sucks, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Eldritch, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Grinding, Light Bondage, Monsters, My Funny Valentine Series, One Shot, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Penis In Vagina Sex, Pennywise is his own Warning, Pet Names, Restraints, Riding, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sexual Coercion, Sexual Slavery, Slapping, Smut, Spanking, Teasing, Threats of Violence, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-06 11:51:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12816930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: You've always been drawn to 29 Neibolt Street, despite its reputation as a haunted house, and the semi-permanent colony of vagrants who have taken to using the abandoned property as a squat.One Sunday, after attending church with your family, you decide to explore the old place, expecting to find nothing more dangerous than a few rotten floorboards and a couple of drunken hobos.You definitely weren't expecting to meet a monster...One-short/vague AU within the 'My Funny Valentine' series. So, it's Daddy Pen and Reader/Babydoll but, as with 'Carousel', you can read this entry as an AU part of the series or as a standalone piece.





	Blue Velvet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mualhani](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mualhani/gifts), [Beastlybfs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beastlybfs/gifts), [DJSpidersGeorg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DJSpidersGeorg/gifts), [LuckyRedBalloon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyRedBalloon/gifts), [hotrockcandy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotrockcandy/gifts), [cuntoid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuntoid/gifts), [nounouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nounouse/gifts), [Torrential_Sunshine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torrential_Sunshine/gifts), [Harazukulove8891](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harazukulove8891/gifts), [The_Stars_Are_Out_Tonight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Stars_Are_Out_Tonight/gifts).



> Well fuck. 
> 
> I couldn't help myself. 
> 
> I had a free hour and decided to waste it writing this one-shot...because I love this fandom, damn it! I love my gross sewer clowns and I love my fellow trash-people! <3
> 
> I'm still taking a break from writing, or least from writing anything other than short smutty pieces, like this one. I'm definitely taking time for myself though, because I'm super busy yada-yada, and I know you guys support me in that decision, because you're all so kind and lovely. But yeah, I'm gonna write more one-shots, and I'm still taking requests for them. It'll probably take me a while to complete and post anything I write for you, but just bear with me, and I will deliver the goods! 
> 
> As mentioned in the summary, you can view this one-short as an AU within the 'My Funny Valentine' series, or you can read it as a standalone piece. It's definitely AU, so it doesn't really make a difference to the rest of the series either way; so whatever floats your balloon, tbh!
> 
> Much love! <3
> 
> {I couldn't find time to put together a playlist for this entry but I was listening to Nicole Dollanganger when I wrote it. Daddywise vibes everywhere!}

You should have stayed on the path.

You should have remembered your lessons. All those fairytales, parroted by your parents and your grandparents, and the teachers at school; you should have remembered those stories and taken heed.

_Little Red Riding Hood should have stayed on the path. She should never have wandered into the forest, dark and forbidden…but she didn’t listen to the wise words of her elders, the foolish child, and the big bad wolf was there, in the forest. Waiting for her, with open jaws._

You shouldn’t have strayed from the pavement, or walked through the overgrown yard, or climbed those rickety porch-steps. You _certainly_ shouldn’t have opened the door, or gone inside, but here you are, trapped in the basement of the old Neibolt House, and you’re not _alone_.

No, you shouldn’t have strayed, shouldn’t have been so _curious_ , because curiosity killed the cat, didn’t it? Curiosity killed the cat, and tempted Red Riding Hood into the forest, and dragged Alice into Wonderland…and now it’s gotten you into trouble, _deep_ trouble, and you can’t see a way out of this mess.

You are _fucked_ , both figuratively and literally.

This wrong-turn you had taken, into the arms of a _monster_ , had seemed so innocuous at first. A silly whim, which had taken root in your mind as you made your way over to your friend’s house, still wearing your Sunday best. You had attended the regular church service with your family, exchanging vague pleasantries with the minister and the other parishioners, and then you had taken your leave, intending to pay a visit to your friend.

But, as you passed the old house, you couldn’t help but linger at the gate, gazing up at the shattered windows, at the hollow shell of a building, surrounded by weeds and tumbled stones. _29 Neibolt Street_ ; Derry’s very own haunted house, as the old folks and the children whisper. You’ve never been inside, before this fateful morning, but you’ve always been _curious_ about it.

You don’t believe in ghosts or ghouls. You’re not even sure that you believe in _God_ , not that you’d ever admit it to anyone. _But_ …the old Neibolt house is still a dangerous place, haunted nor not. The building has been abandoned for so long that it is rotting away where it stands. It’s cold and dusty and _dirty_ , according to the few daring souls who have ventured inside, and the floorboards have been eaten away by time and neglect. You could easily break a leg, poking around in there.

There are rats and moths in residence, and spiders as big as your hand, or so you’ve heard. And there are even more _unpleasant_ inhabitants, upon occasion. _Human_ inhabitants. The house borders the trainyard, making it a magnet for the numerous drifters and hobos who alight at Derry, looking for steady work and a place to squat for a while, until they are ousted and sent packing by the cops. The freight-hoppers, riding the rods, with their packs and bundles, and that same _awful_ look in their eyes, hollow and world-weary. Most of them are harmless enough, but some are _dangerous_ , and you know better than to loiter in their territory, having been warned to steer clear by your parents.

Or at least, you _thought_ you knew better.

_And yet, here you are, standing at the gate of that old house._

_Walking through the yard._

_Up the steps, on to the porch._

_Opening the front door…_

You had explored the house at a leisurely pace, from the topmost room to the ground floor, relishing the heavy silence of this forbidden place, thrilling at each creaking floorboard and billowing dustsheet, but safe in the knowledge that the house was seemingly unoccupied, for now.

You had been ready to leave, to flee the enclosing gloom and bask in the sunlight, to fill your lungs with fresh air…but the stairs to the basement had loomed invitingly behind you, almost _beckoning_ , and you had tiptoed into the darkness, like a gleeful child creeping into the kitchen for a midnight snack, when the rest of the household is sound asleep.

_And the monster had been waiting for you, like the wolf in the forest, in that old fairytale._

You must have looked _delicious_ , picking your way through the soiled detritus with dainty steps, surrounded by refuse and dirt, broken liquor-bottles and discarded sleeping-bags. _Oh yes_ , you must have looked like an _angel_ , with your perfectly coiffed hair and pink lips, all soft and sweet in your Sunday best.

_Blue velvet and white lace._

You gaze at the grime-encrusted window-panes, watching the dust motes glittering in the dim sunlight, and then you hear _something_ , the tinkling of fragmented glass, and you let out a surprised _hiss_ , squinting into the shadows.

_“H-hello?”_

A rasping chuckle sends a jolt of terror through your stricken body, but you can’t move, can’t _breathe_ , like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. A man steps into the circle of light, moving slowly into your view.

_A clown._

He shines in the gloom, resplendent in gaudy colours, white-faced and painted, with bright red hair and bright red _lips_. Cigar-smoke coils around him, like thick fog.

“Hiya sweetheart.” His voice is low and pleasant, with a hoarse Bronx inflection, “What’s a _nice_ girl like you doin’ in a place like this?”

You want to _run_ , to leave this horrible place and the strange clown far behind, but you can’t tear your eyes from him. You swallow, edging forward, mesmerised by his twinkling blue eyes, “Are you a…a drifter?” It’s a politer word than _hobo_ , but you already know that he’s neither; he’s too clean, too _bright_ , and he smells good.

_So fucking good._

_Popcorn and cotton candy, cigar-smoke and that wonderful earthy musk, like soil after a rainstorm, rather than the stale sweat and strong alcohol fumes you have come to expect from the itinerant residents of the Neibolt house._

He chuckles again, shifting towards you, “I’m Pennywise, the Dancing Clown.”

It’s not an answer to your question, but a faint smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, nonetheless. Still, you can feel the strength returning to your fear-numbed body and, with it, your rationality and common sense. You’re suddenly aware of the reality of your predicament; you’re in the basement of an abandoned house, alone with a _stranger_ , and no one knows that you’re here.

He moves forward again, roused by your sudden reticence. Trying to ignore the tendrils of disquiet curling around your ribcage, you take a step back, still smiling at him, “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, _Mr Pennywise_ , but I really should be going home now…”

“So soon? Oh, that’s a _real_ shame, babydoll.” The clown keeps coming, moving towards you, and you don’t realise that he’s got you cornered until it’s too late. Your back thuds painfully against the cement wall, driving the air from your lungs in a loud gasp. He leans into you and lets out a bark of rough laughter, planting his gloved hands upon the wall, on either side of your head, “Y’know, I’m startin’ to think that you’re not such a nice girl after all, {y/n}.”

_How does he know my name?_

You open your mouth, fully intending to beg for a reprieve or to scream blue murder, you’re not quite sure which, but Pennywise frowns reproachfully, pressing a finger against your parted lips, “Oho, you’re a _naughty_ girl, aren’t you? Good girls don’t go pokin’ around in _nasty_ little holes like this, do they?” The clown favours you with a sly grin, shifting to curl his fingers around your throat. His free hand glides across your heaving breasts, weighing the swell of each against his palm. You close your eyes, whimpering incoherently at his touch. He hums appreciatively, leaning forward to drag his tongue across your jaw, “What were you lookin’ for, babydoll? Were you hopin’ to find some filthy hobo down here, hmmm? Thought you’d slip him a dime and hop on his dick for a quick fuck, didn’t ya? You little _whore_.”

You shake your head, feeling hot tears well beneath your eyelids, “ _Nuh-no_ …please…don’t _hurt_ me, _please_ …”

“Please!” The clown mimics your quavering voice, his tone tinged with cruel amusement. He draws away, keeping one hand enclosed firmly around your throat, “You don’t have to beg for it, baby. Ol’ Pennywise is gonna give you what you came here for, seeing as you’re askin’ for it so _nicely_.”

He releases his grip and slides both hands over your trembling frame, his gloved fingers tugging at the hem of your dress, pulling away the rich material to reveal the curves of your stocking-clad legs. You give a strangled yelp, trying to twist away, but he simply grasps you with those strong hands, holding you fast, and spreads your thighs apart. His fingertips sink into your tender skin, leaving mottled bruises in their wake.

“Oho, what’s _this_ , baby?” Pennywise lets out a raucous laugh, reaching between your legs to swipe a teasing finger across your exposed slit, “No panties? Oh {y/n}, you are _priceless_.”

You catch your lip between your teeth, your face burning with shame, “Please, you’ve had your fun, now let me _go_.”

The clown ignores your protests, choosing to slide two fingers into your cunt instead. The fingers glide through your folds without resistance, hilted within your unfurling heat, and you _moan_ at the sensation, clenching around the invading digits. Pennywise smirks knowingly, devouring your flushed face with those bright blue eyes, “Good girls don’t get _wet_ for monsters either, {y/n}.” He pumps his hand against your mound, plunging his fingers in and out of your drenched hole, again and again, and circling your clit with the pad of his thumb, “And you’re so _fucking_ wet, baby.”

He removes his hand, rubbing his slick fingers across your mouth, and then he hoists you into his arms and drags your loose thighs around his waist, grinding insistently against your melting core. Dazed and reeling from your near-climax, you can only push against his chest weakly, mewling piteously as he ruts his hips into you.

“Greedy little thing, aren’t ya?” Pennywise croons your name, reaching down to free his length from the confines of the silken clown-suit, “You want this? You want my fat cock, baby?” You struggle in his arms, panicking at the feeling of his girth pressing against your fluttering cunt, but he clamps a hand over your gaping mouth and slides home, splitting you open. You let out a hiccupping cry against his palm, your inner muscles _burning_ around his shaft, and he pushes forward, until he’s buried balls-deep inside of you.

“Geez, you’re so _tight_ , honey.” The clown grunts approvingly, his fingers compressing your face, “C’mon, move that sweet ass for Daddy, {y/n}.” He curls his arms around you, filling his hands with your quivering buttocks, “Ride my cock, you fucking slut.”

Moaning desperately, you arch against him, rolling your hips in time with his shallow thrusts. Pennywise growls out an obscenity and reaches up to curl his fingers into your hair, his strokes deeper and harder than before, bouncing you relentlessly between his pelvis and the wall. You press your face against his shoulder, sobbing furiously, caught between pleasure and pain, agony and ecstasy.

“You wanna cum, babydoll?” The clown smirks down at you, his hips jarring sharply within the soft cradle of your thighs, “Yeah, I _know_ you do, pretty thing. Go on, fuck your little pussy open on my cock.”

With a shuddering sigh, you plant your quaking hands upon his shoulders and force your cunt down, sinking on to him, wincing at the raw sting of his thickness against your yielding walls. Within minutes, your skin is sheened over with sweat and your jaw is clenched taut, as you feel the promise of sweet release pooling within your loins, white-hot and molten-gold, rippling through your shuddering body. You let out a hissing whine, humping desperately against the clown’s sloping pelvis, your head thrown back in wild abandon as you shamelessly chase your climax.

“Yeah, that’s it. That’s _good_ , baby.” He keeps his eyes fixed upon your face, favouring you with an encouraging smile, “Cum for me, {y/n}. Cum for Pennywise, you dirty little _cunt_.”

You’re almost there, your breath coming in a shrill whistle, your hips snapping frantically, and then, just as you’re about to drench his cock with your juices, the clown thrusts you back into the wall, pushing his torso flush against yours and trapping you there. You can scarcely breathe, let alone move, with his weight resting heavily upon your chest, forcing the air from your lungs and stilling the erratic motions of your juddering hips.

 “ _Oh_ _fuck_ …” Whimpering plaintively, you wriggle against him, trying to spark some friction between the tight press of your entwined bodies, “ _Please_ …”

“You don’t _deserve_ to cum, {y/n}. Not yet.” Pennywise clicks his tongue chidingly and taps a finger against your nose, his red lips twisting into a spiteful smile, “You don’t cum until I say so, babydoll.”

“B-but that’s not fair!” You stammer out the words, blinking up at him, “You t- _told_ me to cum. You w- _wanted_ me to cum.”

“Yeah.” The clown shrugs nonchalantly, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief, “Life’s a bitch, isn’t it?” You huff loudly, rocking back and forth, your cunt squeezing around his shaft. At first, he seems content to let you work yourself into a frenzy, smirking cruelly at your desperation, but then he lets out a low growl and slaps his hands across your buttocks, anchoring himself deep within your twitching heat, “Keep _still_ , baby. Sit on my cock and don’t fucking _move_ , or I’ll beat your little ass until it’s raw, y’hear me?”

You don’t have a choice. Almost howling with frustration, you force yourself to stay there, poised over him, pinned between his dick and the insistent grasp of his hands on your backside, your heart _pounding_ and your exhausted limbs trembling around his solid form. After an eternity, the clown finally relents, shifting against you, tilting his pelvis to rub against your tender clit. His movements are slow and gentle, barely discernible, but you immediately fall apart, sobbing noisily beneath his teasing ministrations.

“What do you want, {y/n}?” Pennywise murmurs roughly, steadily grinding against your cunt, “C’mon, tell Daddy what you need, sweet thing. Gotta hear you _say_ it.”

Whining pitifully, you paw at his shoulders, trying to pull him closer, “I want you to _fuck_ me, Daddy. Please, I _need_ it…”

“Hold tight, babydoll.” He winks at you, easing back slightly, and then he ploughs into you again, fucking you into the wall, slamming his hips between your bruised thighs, “Oho, your cunt is gonna be _sore_ , princess. Poor little cunt, poor little _fuck-toy_ , used and abused by the nasty old clown.” 

You cling to him, moaning his name, riding out each brutal stroke, “I’m so close… _oh fuck_ …let me cum, _please_ …”

Pennywise laughs merrily at your distress, reaching down between your bodies to drag his thumb across your clit, keeping time with the violent rhythm of his thrusts. It _hurts_ , it really _fucking_ hurts, but you don’t care; you’re too caught up in the _pleasure_ of it, the bittersweet sting of it, and the searing pressure building to boiling-point in your loins, threatening to spill over at any moment.

“Almost there, {y/n}. Oho, you’re takin’ my cock so well, sweetheart…” The clown grips your waist and thrusts into you, pummelling your aching cunt without mercy, until you’re _screaming_ , your mouth gaping open, your face clammy with sweat and tears. He reaches up to trace your parted lips with a gloved finger, cooing softly, “Yeah, that’s it. Cum with me, babydoll. _Let go_.”

You don’t have to be told twice. Before those last words have even been spoken, you’re already convulsing around him, your muscles squeezing his shaft, milking his strange seed deep into your core. Snarling your name, he jerks viciously against you, tangling his fingers within your tousled hair as he fills you to the brim, coating your quivering insides with his heat. He slides out of you, shooting the last jets of cum across your stomach, staining the blue velvet of your dress with white streaks.

“ _Fuck_ …” You let out a shaky laugh, still riding out the throes of your climax, your limbs curled around the clown’s torso. Pennywise smirks, his blue eyes drifting lazily over your face, and he pulls away, lowering you to the ground. He stays between your legs, supporting your weight, one hand still curled into your hair, “You okay, princess?”

You manage a weak nod, closing your eyes and tilting your head back against the wall, your breath coming in shuddering pants. He chuckles at your dishevelled state, leaning forward to rub his nose across your cheek…and then he lands an open-handed slap upon your thigh, and another upon your throbbing clit, the strikes precise and sharp. You _hiss_ at the unexpected blow, struggling against him, but he’s too strong, too heavy, and you sag against his chest, whimpering like a scolded puppy.

The clown brings your hands together and wraps his fingers around your wrists, binding them within his grasp. He drags your arms up over your head, holding them against the wall, seemingly oblivious to your heated curses and thrashing legs. Keeping you trapped between his torso and the wall, he uses his free hand to secure your aching wrists with a leather belt, tying them together and pulling the makeshift restraint taut, almost painfully so. You hadn’t noticed the belt before now. It’s almost as though he has conjured it out of thin air, upon a cruel whim. It’s a ridiculous notion, it’s _beyond_ ridiculous, but you’re starting to suspect that something isn’t quite _right_ with the clown.

You’re started to suspect that he isn’t a clown at all, that he isn’t even _human_ , and you’re suddenly _terrified_ , despite the warmth of his body and the lingering glow of your climax.  

Pennywise draws away, favouring you with a satisfied smile. He locks one hand around the loose end of the belt-strap, tugging at it, forcing you to keep your arms held over your head. Your body is screaming with the strain and you bite your lip, trying to repress the hot tears threatening to spill down your flushed cheeks.

“Oh, you look so _sad_ , {y/n}!” The clown grips your chin between finger and thumb, giving your head a little shake, his tone mockingly playful, “Why the long face, hmmm?”

You shiver beneath his touch, shrinking back against the wall, “I w-want to go home. Please, just let me g-go, and I promise I w-won’t tell anyone about this…”

“Aren’t you havin’ _fun_ , baby?” Pennywise sneers, dragging a sharp-tipped finger across your inner thigh. He cups a hand around your abused hole, sloppy with his cum and your juices, squelching obscenely beneath his palm, “Damn, just _look_ at you, all slicked up and needy. Such a _filthy_ girl. You look good enough to _eat_ , doll.”

You tremble on the spot, feeling your traitorous flesh respond to his attentions, despite your overwhelming fear, “Are you g-going to _kill_ me?”

The clown chuckles darkly, “Not unless you _really_ piss me off, and you’re not going to do that, are ya?” Raising your red-rimmed gaze to his white face, you shake your head fervently, earning yourself a genuine smile from your captor, “Atta girl. Oh, I think we’re gonna get along just _fine_ , {y/n}. Don’t you?”

“Yeah.” You manage a feeble smile in return, determined to keep him sweet, “Like a house on fire.”

“That’s the spirit.” Pennywise smirks, pinching your cheek, and presses forward to slide a knee between your quivering thighs, “You just hold on tight and enjoy the ride, babydoll. It’s gonna be a _long_ night.”


End file.
